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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24224698">though the stars walk backward</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Les Misérables - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(that probably ends okay), Alternate Universe, Angst, Gen, Kinda?, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poor Marius, Unconventional Format, because i couldn't find any better quotes, but also kinda modern?, but it'll be sad, but this isn't night vale, combeferre is the only one who knows the name of the town, combeferre's just a nerd i guess, constantly, courf + ferre live in the town, darned if i know, enjolras has good posture, enjolras is SUCH a dork and we love him, enjolras is a reporter, enjolras just likes interviewing people, eventually, extremely safe, fantasy kinda?, gavroche is a poltergeist?, grantaire is a camera man, he gets unlucky, i am just tired, i figured out where the plot will go, i might be a lil bit obsessed with night vale, i really am not 100 percent sure where this is going, it's just a weird town, javert is leader of the police force, just a very weird town, marius is the mayor's assistant, night vale-ish town, no one else in the entire town knows, no?, plot?, the blackstone fields are definitely safe, they're very safe, title from a poem by e. e. cummings, transcript format kinda, valjean is the mayor, what is over the town hall???, why does combeferre know?, you should let your children play there</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:01:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,227</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24224698</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras and Grantaire are sent to report on a... strange town somewhere in France. It definitely has a name. Just wait a bit, they'll remember it soon. Of course it has a name! How could they have gotten there if it didn't have a name?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bahorel/Feuilly (Les Misérables), Combeferre &amp; Gavroche, Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Cosette Fauchelevent &amp; Jean Valjean, Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy, Courfeyrac &amp; Gavroche Thénardier, Joly/Bossuet Laigle/Musichetta, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, e/r might happen, it's rlly not the main thing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Arrival</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hi!<br/>italicized text is when someone is speaking, brackets are used to show actions... italics in brackets are used when someone off camera is speaking<br/>---<br/>I have that awful curse of a writer where I have so many ideas that I try to work on them all and don't finish a lot of them...<br/>I need to finish that one about teenage Courfeyrac and Combeferre… and about a billion ideas for one-shots...</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>*</strong>
</p><p>[A blond man sits on a cloth chair, with remarkably good posture, looking straight at the camera.]</p><p>
  <em>Hello, Julien Enjolras, senior reporter, here, reporting live from an airplane somewhere over France. As you may know, I’ve been assigned to visit a town where many strange occurrences have been reported over the last several years, named…</em>
</p><p>[He paused for a second, digging through a manilla folder jammed full of files. Pulling one out, he quickly read over it, before frowning.]</p><p>
  <em>That’s odd. I can’t find the name of the town on my assignment sheet. No matter.</em>
</p><p>[<em>Ten minutes to touch-down</em>, someone called from the cockpit, and Enjolras nodded slowly.]</p><p>
  <em>I may give a brief report on my first impressions tonight once we’ve got the lodging arrangements sorted. Tomorrow, I have a meeting scheduled with Mayor…</em>
</p><p>[He checked the paper again.]</p><p><em>Mayor Fauchelevent.</em> <em>That’s it, for now. Over.</em></p><p>[A muffled sort of laugh from behind the camera.]</p><p>
  <strong>*</strong>
</p><p>[Enjolras sits now in a room with cornflower-blue walls. Despite being seated atop a messily-made bed, he retains his perfect posture.]</p><p>
  <em>Julien Enjolras, reporting in. I have located our host family’s home. They seem to be pleasant, and I hope to get to know them better and possibly interview them in future.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Now, onto my first impressions of this town. When I arrived at the—hmm?</em>
</p><p>[He glanced off to one side of the camera, presumably at the cameraman behind it.]</p><p>
  <em>Grantaire tells me I’ve only got a few minutes, so I’m afraid I’ll have to make this short.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The town seemed alright at the beginning. From the airfield to about, what, Main Street? it seemed to be perfectly normal. Nothing too unusual.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>When we reached Main Street, I first noticed a very large water tower to my right. It looked normal, but at the same time, almost didn’t. It could have been the fact that it was already dark at that point. I next saw a large shape overtop of what the driver told me was the Town Hall. It was most likely an airplane or helicopter. Though it didn’t seem to be moving…</em>
</p><p>
  <em>We arrived at the host family’s home without incident. They have a lovely house, really, though they have too many chairs. I might have to ask them if I can take a tour at some point.</em>
</p><p>[<em>Glad to hear you like it</em>, a voice came from somewhere behind the camera. Enjolras looked up, and then back into the lens.]</p><p>
  <em>That’s our host.</em>
</p><p><em>Monsieur?</em> [He called.] <em>Do you consent to a quick interview and-or greeting?</em></p><p>[<em>Sure, why not</em>.]</p><p>[Grantaire swung the camera around to face the man. He was of average build, though a bit on the short side, with dark curls framing his face.]</p><p>[Enjolras entered the frame to the left, holding a notebook and pen.]</p><p>
  <em>Hello. Thank you, again, for letting us stay here.</em>
</p><p><em>No problem. </em>[The man beamed.] <em>Anything to help the freedom of the press.</em></p><p>
  <em>Right. Well, care to do a quick introduction?</em>
</p><p><em>Sure. </em><em>Hi, I’m F</em><em>é</em><em>lix Courfeyrac. I work as a teacher in School Building Thirteen. I live here with my husband, son, daughter, and cat. </em>[He ran a hand through his hair.] <em>That work?</em></p><p>
  <em>That will work, yes. I’m sure you know why we’re here. Is there anything you’d like to say about living in… I’m sorry, the name is escaping me right now.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It’s totally fine. Well, honestly, it seems fine to me. Everyone knows each other pretty well, and, I mean, you just go about your own business.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Alright. Is that all?</em>
</p><p>[Courfeyrac nodded.]</p><p>
  <em>Okay then, thank you.</em>
</p><p>[Enjolras walked back to sit on the bed, the camera following him.]</p><p>
  <em>That was a brief interview with our host, F</em><em>é</em><em>lix Courfeyrac. Thank you for tuning in, and see you tomorrow for a report on my first full day in… this town. Over.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>*</strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A mayor, a cloak, and something in the sky above the Town Hall</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>*<b></b></p><p>[Enjolras stood next to a fifty-something man with graying hair, in front of a large mahogany desk.]</p><p>
  <em>Hello, Julien Enjolras, reporting in. I’m here today with the mayor of the town, Mayor Fauchelevent.</em>
</p><p>[The mayor smiled wider.]</p><p>
  <em>Please, call me Mayor Ultimus.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Alright. Well, I’m here today with Mayor Ultimus. Monsieur, how long have you been mayor of this town?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ah… it’s been quite a while now. Since my daughter was very small, I believe.</em>
</p><p>[Enjolras waited for a few moments, and when no more information was forth-coming, he continued.]</p><p>
  <em>Okay. On the whole, how would you describe your town and residents?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oh, they’re just delightful! Very well-behaved, though sometimes we’ll have some trouble with some of the younger folk, especially around curfew. The Town Police Force can usually deal with that though. Why, Inspector Javert was just telling me yesterday that—</em>
</p><p><em>Mayor Jean! </em>[A man burst onto the scene, wearing an old-fashioned coat and his arms loaded with papers. He paused for a second, noticed the camera, and immediately turned a bright red.] <em>Oh, am I interrupting something?</em></p><p>[Though Enjolras looked exceedingly angry, the mayor just chuckled.]<em> Not at all, son. This wonderful young man here has come to report on our little town.</em></p><p><em>Oh. </em>[The man still looked bashful, though he accepted a handshake from Enjolras.] <em>I’m Marius Pontmercy, Mayor Jean’s assistant.</em></p><p>
  <em>How wonderful. I’m Enjolras, a reporter for Beauchamp News.</em>
</p><p><em>Cool. </em>[Marius smiled quickly at him, then turned to face the mayor.] <em>Sir, the young lady from the welfare office is here already, and she seems impatient. Would you like me to stall her?</em></p><p>
  <em>That would be excellent. Thank you, young man.</em>
</p><p>[Marius rushed out the door, jacket flapping behind him. The mayor turned back to Enjolras with a wide grin.]</p><p>
  <em>I’m afraid I’ll have to cut this short. You’re welcome to come back again to continue this interview.</em>
</p><p>[Enjolras frowned at the idea of having this interview prematurely ended, but gave a respectful nod.]</p><p>
  <em>Of course, monsieur. It was a pleasure speaking to you.</em>
</p><p>[He turned to head out, and Grantaire was heard to fumble with the camera.]</p><p>[Before he could turn it off, Marius threw the door open again, now wearing an orange vest and sporting a large bruise on his cheek. In his quest to run over to the mayor, he bumped into Enjolras, who shot him a glare, before rolling his eyes at the camera.]</p><p>
  <em>I’m Julien Enjolras, and that was our meeting with Mayor… Ultimus. Over.</em>
</p><p>
  <b>*</b>
</p><p>[Enjolras stood next to Courfeyrac, a tall man with thick glasses, and two dark-haired children.]</p><p>
  <em>Julien Enjolras, reporting in. I was going to look around the town a bit, but it’s raining awfully hard, so here I am, back at the house, with our host family, who have graciously agreed to an interview.</em>
</p><p>[One of the children, the girl, looked ridiculously excited.] <em>Yay!</em></p><p>[Courfeyrac laughed, running one hand through his curls and giving a nervous smile.] <em>Great.</em></p><p><em>Alright, let’s start. We’ve already been introduced to Courfeyrac, right, now let’s get an introduction to the others. </em>[He pointed his pen at the tall man, who bobbed his head.]</p><p>
  <em>I’m Tristan Combeferre… uhm… what else… I work at the hospital down the street. I’ve lived here for… hmm… the exact number is escaping me right now, but I moved here to start my residency soon after finishing medical school.</em>
</p><p>[Enjolras made an intrigued noise.] <em>So you haven’t always lived here?</em></p><p>[Combeferre shook his head.] <em>Nah. I went to college in Paris, but I couldn’t find anywhere to complete my medical certification there.</em></p><p>
  <em>Interesting… Monsieur Courfeyrac, have you always lived here?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ever since I can remember. My mom says she moved down here when she was pregnant with me.</em>
</p><p><em>Interesting… </em>[Enjolras repeated, before turning to the children.] <em>Hello there.</em></p><p>[The girl grinned from ear to ear, and her brother put one hand on her shoulder before replying.] <em>Hi. Sorry, she’s just been excited to meet you for forever.</em></p><p>[Grantaire chuckled, and Enjolras wrinkled his nose at him, then kneeled down to get at the level of the girl.]</p><p>
  <em>It’s true, I am very exciting. And how old are you, mademoiselle?</em>
</p><p>[She held up four fingers, suddenly shy. The boy beside her sighed.]</p><p>
  <em>She’s five.</em>
</p><p><em>Leon!</em> [His sister protested, jabbing him in the side with her finger. Combeferre gently moved the two of them apart, putting Leon between Courfeyrac and himself, and transferring the girl to his side.]</p><p>
  <em>Sorry about the two of them. She’s five.</em>
</p><p><em>Five!</em> [She cheered, grasping onto her father’s leg.] <em>Charlotte!</em></p><p><em>Oh, well, nice to meet you, Charlotte,</em> [Enjolras said politely, standing back up.] <em>And… Leon?</em></p><p>[The boy nodded seriously.] <em>Leon Michael. I’m ten.</em></p><p><em>Pleasure. </em>[Enjolras scribbled something down on his notepad.] <em>Before I get into asking questions, are there any statements that any of you would like to make?</em></p><p>[No one said anything, so he moved on to the questions.] <em>I suppose this will be interesting. Monsieur Combeferre, having lived elsewhere for a large portion of your life, can you remark on how this town is different?</em></p><p>[Combeferre looked pensive for a second before answering.] <em>Well… it’s much smaller, firstly, than Paris or any of the bigger cities I’ve lived. I actually like that. You know everyone. It’s a… little weird sometimes, though? Like, I’ve actually met the mayor. That never happened, uh, literally anywhere else. We’ll be out for dinner, and we’ll just… see the mayor eating with his daughter.</em></p><p>[He paused for a second.]</p><p>
  <em>Besides that… I mean, it has its fair share of weird stuff. Of course it does, that’s why you’re here. Uh, well, I still haven’t got a clear answer as to why curfew is so important. I don’t think it’s a safety thing? I mean, there are streetlamps all over the place, and they always make a big deal about how crime-free we are. But the mayor’s really big on it, and, I mean, it doesn’t go into effect until… um…</em>
</p><p><em>Nine forty-one. </em>[Courfeyrac volunteered, and Combeferre gave him a soft smile.]</p><p>
  <em>Right. Thanks. Nine forty-one. So usually we’re home by then if we were out. Sometimes, though, I’ll be unlucky enough to be stuck working late. Usually then I just, well, do some overtime. It all works out fine in the end.</em>
</p><p><em>Interesting… </em>[Enjolras murmured, writing down the time of curfew on his notepad.] <em>Anything else?</em></p><p>
  <em>Not that comes to mind right now.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Thank you. Now, Monsieur Courfeyrac, I recall you saying that you are a teacher, and you two have these children here. Back in Paris, we occasionally received reports that claimed the school system here was vastly different from the school system elsewhere, and that the childhood experience here was equally strange.</em>
</p><p>[Courfeyrac gave a small chuckle, rubbing the nape of his neck.]</p><p><em>Well. I went through the school system myself, and I feel that it adequately prepared me for the real life. We were taught economics, self-defense, first-aid, home management… all that useful stuff. Plus the basics: math, science, history,</em> <em>biology. And I’d like to say we were given options to study things that interested us personally as well. Of course, this was a while ago, but we still teach the students very similar things today.</em></p><p>
  <em>Thank you. Would you mind if I asked your children a few questions?</em>
</p><p>[Both men shook their heads in unison.] <em>Go ahead.</em></p><p>[Enjolras bent back down to the level of the children.]</p><p>
  <em>Hello again. Hmm… what do you guys like to do in your free time?</em>
</p><p><em>Play! </em>[Charlotte cheered.]</p><p>
  <em>Okay, very nice. What sort of thing do you like to play?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>House! On the big dark stone stuff near my school!</em>
</p><p>[Enjolras glanced at Combeferre, who shrugged.]</p><p>
  <em>All the news reports claim the blackstone fields are perfectly safe play places for children, and encourage them to be played upon. No bad reports or injuries have come from them in nearly three months.</em>
</p><p>[There was an awkward pause, almost a stand-off, which Courfeyrac broke by clapping his hands together.]</p><p>
  <em>Well, would you two like to stay for dinner with us?</em>
</p><p>[<em>Yes please!</em> Grantaire called. Enjolras closed his notepad and stuck it in his pocket.] <em>Alright. Do you mind if we video it? Just… you know, showing a part of everyday life in this town?</em></p><p>[Combeferre and Courfeyrac shared a look, before the former nodded.] <em>Feel free.</em></p><p>[Grantaire moved the camera into the dining room, as Courfeyrac brought in a bowl of rice, another of salad, and a tray of meat.]</p><p><em>Leon and Charlotte, dinner time! </em>[He called to the kids who had wandered off to play after the interview ended. They came running in, and skidded to their seats around the large wooden table. Grantaire and Enjolras sat on the opposite side of the table from the family. Courfeyrac handed everyone a plate of food, then put a plate in front of himself and sat down.]</p><p>
  <em>I hope you all like it.</em>
</p><p>[There was a prolonged silence as everyone ate. Charlotte and Leon whispered furiously to each other, while Combeferre determinedly chewed his food and Courfeyrac just smiled.]</p><p>[In the corner furthest from the door, a hovering black cloak appeared and swayed in place. Enjolras noticed it after a few seconds.]</p><p>
  <em>Excuse me.</em>
</p><p>[Combeferre looked up from his dinner.]</p><p>
  <em>Excuse me, there seems to be… something over there.</em>
</p><p>[Combeferre glanced over to where Enjolras was pointing, then nodded.]</p><p><em>That’s Gavroche. </em>[He stood up from his chair, walking towards the floating cloak.] <em>Gav, we have guests. Be polite.</em></p><p>[The cloak shuddered violently for a moment, then disappeared. In its place stood a young boy, about twelve, with sandy curls and freckled tan skin.]</p><p><em>Hey there ‘Ferre! </em>[He grinned at Combeferre, who acknowledged with a nod.]</p><p>
  <em>Hello Gavroche. Pleasure as always.</em>
</p><p><em>Want some food? </em>[Courfeyrac interjected from his seat, already grabbing an empty plate.]</p><p>[Enjolras looked back and forth between the boy and Combeferre, casting a few confused glances at an equally baffled Grantaire.]</p><p>
  <em>Uh… is this… another son of yours?</em>
</p><p><em>No, no, not technically. </em>[Courfeyrac answered, scooping rice and meat onto the plate.] <em>This is Gavroche. He just drops in from time to time.</em></p><p>[Gavroche bounced over to Courfeyrac and grabbed the plate, then sat down in an empty chair next to him.] <em>So I was at school yesterday and— </em>[He continued to blather on about one thing or another, with Courfeyrac nodding in acknowledgment.]</p><p>[Enjolras continued to look befuddled as he stood up and pushed his chair back in.] <em>Well, we’ve finished eating and it seems to have stopped raining, so we’re going to go see what we can see on Main Street.</em></p><p><em>Alright, have fun! </em>[Courfeyrac said cheerily.] <em>Remember to be back before curfew!</em></p><p>
  <b>*</b>
</p><p>[Enjolras stood in front of an iron fence, which was in turn in front of a large building with quartz pillars. He was frowning.]</p><p>
  <em>Julien Enjolras, reporting in from Q… Qu… K… um… this town’s Town Hall. The large shape which I noticed yesterday seems to still be floating above the building. Grantaire, can you pan up to it?</em>
</p><p>[Grantaire panned the camera up to the shape. It was grey and vaguely oval-shaped, but any details couldn’t be discerned due to cloud cover and dusk.]</p><p>[<em>What do you boys think you’re doing?</em> a booming voice broke in. Grantaire quickly moved the camera back down to face Enjolras as a grey-haired man in dark clothes came onto the scene.]</p><p>
  <em>Monsieur, I am Julien Enjolras, a reporter for Beauchamp News, based in—</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And I’m Javert! I don’t give a [BLEEP] if you’re from the bleeding States! What are you doing in front of our Town Hall?</em>
</p><p>[Enjolras looked stricken and sounded even more so.] <em>Uh… we’re… reporting… we’re doing news… there’s a big thing in the sky over the Town Hall… we’re doing news on it…</em></p><p>[Javert scoffed.] <em>It’s a helicopter.</em></p><p>[<em>It’s not… it’s not even moving!</em> Grantaire laughed, though swiftly shut up when Javert shot him a glare.]</p><p>
  <em>It’s a helicopter! Go back to your business, before I haul you off to a jail cell. It’s nearly curfew.</em>
</p><p>[Coupled with this ominous tone of voice, he stared daggers at Enjolras, who paled and turned to the camera.]</p><p>
  <em>Um… alright. Julien Enjolras, reporting from a town somewhere in France. Over.</em>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>*</em>
  </b>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this was supposed to be done earlier but my friends and I are starting an D&amp;D campaign so I had to make a character-- sorry 'bout that<br/>---<br/>yo, imagine going to a school where you actually got taught useful things like self-defense and home management?? instead of just being taught about alcoholism and mitochondria??? (which are also important but STILL)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. meet the  ̶f̶a̶m̶i̶l̶y̶ friends</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>*</strong>
</p><p>[Enjolras sat again on his bed, looking dreadfully serious.]</p><p>
  <em>Julien Enjolras, reporting in. I apologize for our… rushed closing yesterday. It was truly unprofessional.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Today, I attempted to get another meeting with the mayor, but his assistant said that he had no time available. Grantaire proceeded to complain heavily about having to carry all the equipment up to the mayor’s office with no meeting coming of it—</em>
</p><p>[Grantaire made a noise of protestation, and Enjolras silenced him with a look.]</p><p>
  <em>Needless to say, we were not able to get anything done the rest of the day, or perhaps there was simply not much going on. It is now about five in the evening. Courfeyrac and Combeferre have offered to take us to meet their friends at some sort of weekly hang-out they have. I accepted, but only because this will give us an opportunity to interview more people.</em>
</p><p>[<em>Of course,</em> Grantaire snorted. <em>Of course it’s only that. You don’t want to make new friends or anything. Just interviews.</em>]</p><p><em>I am a professional reporter. Work comes first, so yes, interviews. </em>[Enjolras hissed from between his teeth, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before continuing.] <em>It will be… interesting.</em></p><p>
  <strong>*</strong>
</p><p>[The camera was positioned off to one side of a table in a mostly-empty restaurant. The table was surrounded by at least six people, maybe more.]</p><p>[Combeferre entered the scene, followed by Courfeyrac, and then Enjolras and Grantaire.]</p><p><em>Excuse me everyone! </em>[The tall man announced, drawing the attention of the table.] <em>Let me introduce Julien Enjolras, a reporter come to study our town, and… his cameraman!</em></p><p><em>Raphael</em>. [Grantaire said.] <em>Raphael Grantaire.</em></p><p><em>I’m so sorry, I just forgot your name. </em>[Combeferre apologized.]</p><p><em>It’s totally chill</em>.</p><p>[One of the men standing around the table whooped, coming around and putting one arm around Combeferre’s shoulder.]</p><p><em>‘Ferre, exactly where did you find this hottie?</em> [He asked, looking Grantaire up and down, then grinned.] <em>I’m Bahorel.</em></p><p>
  <em>Oh! Nice to meet you.</em>
</p><p>[Bahorel winked at him, before turning to Enjolras.] <em>Don’t worry, I’m not going to steal your boy toy. It’s a monogamous life for me.</em></p><p><em>He’s not… </em>[Enjolras sputtered.] <em>He’s not my boy toy! He’s my cameraman! It’s entirely a professional relationship!</em></p><p><em>Keep telling yourself that, honey, </em>[was Bahorel’s response.] <em>And, hey, Grantaire, cutie? You ever need a break from blondie here, I can always find time for you.</em></p><p>[He was pulled away by a red-headed man, who smiled apologetically at the newcomers before lecturing Bahorel in a low voice.]</p><p><em>Hah.</em> [Combeferre chuckled to himself.] <em>Yeah, that’s Bahorel for you. </em>[Seeing Enjolras’ bright red face, he hastened to add,] <em>Really, don’t worry. He’s married, and I’ve never seen someone as committed to his husband as he is. He just flirts a lot.</em></p><p>[Enjolras decided to storm off, calling back a,] <em>I am using the facilities, and when I return, I expect this conversation to be over</em>.</p><p>[Courfeyrac giggled, already working on his first drink.] <em>Ah, young love. Well, wanna meet everyone else?</em></p><p>[Grantaire slowly nodded at first, but then shook his head.] <em>We ought to wait for Enjolras to come out. He’s the one that wants to interview everyone.</em></p><p><em>Ooh, interview! </em>[A short, freckled man said, standing at Grantaire’s elbow.] <em>Good thing for you, I’ve got my paparazzi outfit on.</em></p><p>[Someone in the group snorted, and was about to say something when Enjolras returned from the bathroom, face significantly less red.]</p><p><em>Perfect! </em>[Courfeyrac exclaimed, clapping his hands. The people around the table formed a quick line, as though they often had need to introduce themselves.]</p><p>[There was Bahorel, who winked at Grantaire again, then his husband, the redhead, who was named Feuilly. The man with the paparazzi outfit was Prouvaire, but he assured Enjolras and Grantaire that <em>You can call me Jehan. </em>Joly was a short man with a cane and a tendency to squint when talking, who may or may not have been dating Bossuet, another man who was bald and lanky, but that was never really firmly explained one way or another. In all fairness, he also could have been dating Musichetta, a woman with a mess of curls and who, apparently, worked as a waitress at the restaurant they were all sitting in. Again, not explained. Then there was Marius, the mayor’s assistant that they had already met, and his girlfriend Cosette, a pleasant sort of girl with a wide smile.]</p><p>[Enjolras was kept on his toes, smiling and exchanging pleasantries with each of the newly introduced people. Once it was finally over, he ran a hand over his face and sighed.] <em>I was going to interview you about your experiences in this town, but I see that many of you are… tipsy.</em></p><p><em>I want an interview! </em>[Prouvaire shouted.] <em>No way did I dress nice for an interview I didn’t know was going to happen just to not be interviewed!</em></p><p>
  <em>Um. Okay, then. Anyone else?</em>
</p><p>[Responses in the negative. Bahorel’s helpful input was,] <em>How about you join us in being tipsy? It’s fun!</em></p><p>
  <em>No. Monsieur Prouvaire, would you like to move closer to the camera to conduct the interview?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sure!</em>
</p><p>[They moved towards the camera, everyone else chattering animatedly in the background. Someone handed Grantaire a drink, and he looked at it suspiciously before downing it in one gulp and receiving cheers from the group.]</p><p><em>So… Monsieur Prouvaire. </em>[Enjolras started.] <em>Firstly, how long have you lived in this town?</em></p><p>
  <em>Oh, my whole life. My family’s lived here for generations. I think there’s actually a street named after us, somewhere around here. Rue des Prouvaires.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Rue des Prouvaires? Isn’t that in Paris?</em>
</p><p>[Prouvaire shrugged.] <em>I’ve never been. Maybe it is. </em>[His eyes lit up.] <em>Hey, interestingly I’ve never actually been out of this town.</em></p><p>[Enjolras scribbled that down on a nearby napkin, eyebrows raised.] <em>What about for schooling?</em></p><p><em>Aw, we’ve got a college here. Practically no one comes to it from out of town, so there’s plenty of room. </em>[He glanced back at his friends.] <em>Hmm… Bahorel and Bossuet went to the college here, but everyone else was a smarty-pants and went out-of-town.</em></p><p><em>Huh… </em>[Enjolras muttered, writing that down as well.] <em>But they came back here, obviously. That’s… interesting. </em>[He met Prouvaire’s eyes.] <em>Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever heard this, having stayed here your whole life, but the general consensus in other parts of France is that there is something odd or even malicious about your town. What would you say to that?</em></p><p>
  <em>Well I think our town is just wonderful! Everyone’s so nice. You just… do your own thing, and you’ll be fine!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Right. I’ve heard that from several others as well.</em>
</p><p><em>Great! </em>[Prouvaire grinned.] <em>Anything else? Want me to spin so you can see my interview outfit?</em></p><p>
  <em>Uh… you don’t—</em>
</p><p>[Prouvaire was already spinning, his periwinkle coat flapping.] <em>Aren’t I pretty?</em></p><p>
  <em>You’re inebriated.</em>
</p><p><em>And you’re no fun at all. I’m going back to my friends. </em>[he pouted, sticking his tongue out at Enjolras and flouncing off.]</p><p><em>For God’s sake.</em> [Enjolras muttered, then headed back to join the group around the table.]</p><p>[A general cheer went up when he returned.]</p><p><em>It’s reporter boy! </em>[Bahorel called, toasting him with his drink.]</p><p>[Courfeyrac, who had climbed up to sit on the table with his arm around Combeferre’s shoulder, giggled.] <em>Reporter boy doesn’t know the name of the town!</em></p><p><em>Well, do you know it?</em> [Combeferre said softly. He was the only one, beside Enjolras, who had not had any drinks.]</p><p><em>Uh… it’s… I’m too drunk! </em>[Courfeyrac leaned back against his husband, who sighed and whispered something in his ear.] <em>Oh! Ke… Qu… Ka… I forgot already.</em></p><p><em>No one knows! </em>[Bossuet practically screeched, before tipping backwards off his chair and being fussed over by Joly.]</p><p>[Combeferre sighed again, sharing a look with Enjolras, who had been watching the scene with mild disappointment on his face.]</p><p>[It only got more wild from there. By the time Javert appeared at the head of the stairs, Grantaire, Bossuet, and Joly were singing a raucous song together, and Enjolras had resigned himself to sitting in a chair with his head in his hands.]</p><p><em>Nice to see you, Combeferre. </em>[Javert said, and the man looked over.]</p><p>
  <em>Nice to see you as well, Inspector.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You the designated driver?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Designated making-sure-everyone-gets-home-in-one-piece person, maybe.</em>
</p><p>[Javert chuckled.] <em>Well, it’s late. You should start doing that now.</em></p><p>
  <em>Alright. See you around.</em>
</p><p>[The inspector moved back down the stairs, and Combeferre clapped his hands to attract the attention of his friends.] <em>Okay, everybody. We need to head out.</em></p><p><em>Awwwwwww. </em>[Prouvaire whined.] <em>We were just getting started.</em></p><p>
  <em>We’ve got another of these meetings next week, Prouvaire. It’s bedtime now.</em>
</p><p>[With only mild complaining, everyone started getting ready to leave. Marius was leaning on Cosette, who kept muttering, <em>Lightweight</em>. Feuilly had fallen asleep, and was awakened by Bahorel kicking his chair.]</p><p><em>Grantaire, come on.</em> [Enjolras said. The curly-haired man finished his drink and stood up, moving towards the camera, but Enjolras stepped in front of him.] <em>Nope. I don’t trust you with the camera in your current state. I’ll get it.</em></p><p>[He glanced back at Combeferre.] <em>We’re going to head back to the house. Can you deal with everything here?</em></p><p>[The bespectacled man nodded, Courfeyrac’s arm around his waist.] <em>We’ll see you there soon.</em></p><p><em>Fantastic. </em>[Enjolras looked into the camera, ignoring the funny faces Grantaire was pulling.] <em>Julien Enjolras, over.</em></p><p>
  <strong>*</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>see, javert can be nice<br/>and here are the rest of (well, most of the rest of) the dorks<br/>I finally figured out a vague sort of plot for this so that's great</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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